


Turning Down the Heat

by Decepticunt



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Afterglow, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Forehead Kisses, Forehead Touching, Gay Robots, Gay Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Overloads (Transformers), Penis In Vagina Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Fingering (Transformers), Valve Play (Transformers), nuzzling, two trucks having sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticunt/pseuds/Decepticunt
Summary: Sometimes Ratchet needs to be the one getting plowed. (A.K.A there’s not enough fics of Ratchet bottoming.)
Relationships: Arcee & Bulkhead (Transformers), Optimus Prime/Ratchet
Comments: 11
Kudos: 121





	Turning Down the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo! First story! I mainly wrote this because I’ve always loved the idea of Ratchet being a grumpy old mech who just needs a good fragging to calm down.

Optimus entered the base and transformed back into bot-mode. He looked around the room and noticed that Bulkhead, Arcee, and Bumblebee were behaving differently…

None of them were talking and they all appeared to be...less than content. Bulkhead and bumblebee looked concerned while Arcee was...irritated to put it lightly.

“Has something unfortunate occurred while I was away?”

Bulkhead scratched the back of his head,

“Well...uh...Ratchet’s been a little...unhappy for some reason…”

Arcee crossed her arms and turned to Bulkhead,

“Unhappy? Doc’s straight-up fuming. He’s all tensed up and moody.” 

Her focus then shifted to Optimus.

“We tried talking to him but he’s really not having it.”

Optimus nodded and walked past the three.

“You three shall go and recharge then. I will handle this.”

Bulkhead and Bumblebee looked at one another questioningly then shrugged before walking off.

Arcee remained and explained a bit more to Optimus before joining the others, leaving him alone.

He entered the base’s “Med-Bay” (if it could even be called that) and stood several feet away from his medic, watching him as he worked.

Arcee was right. He really was tense. Wires appeared to be knotted in his seams and his stance was so pent-up Optimus could practically see the energon boiling within him.

He took a step closer and reached a servo out.

“Ratch-”

“Busy.”

The immediate response silenced the prime. He noted that Ratchet’s voice was gruffer than usual. That tone could mean anything: sick, tired, hurt.

But unfortunately Arcee had already given him the answer to that question: he was in a really bad mood. Which with Ratchet, meant facing a force comparable to Unicron.

Optimus simply kept his composure. He was not afraid of Ratchet in the slightest. He knew his friend well, what calmed him down, what angered him, what saddened him, pretty much everything.

He knew that Ratchet’s anger could be cooled if he talked to Optimus about his problems. So he could sort them out and deal with them in an orderly fashion.

Optimus assumed that this would be the same case…

So, he got even closer and reached out his servo, bringing it towards the medic’s broad shoulder.

Ratchet immediately spun around and grasped it before Optimus’ digits could even caress him.

“I said I’m busy.”

Optimus optics widened a touch before returning to their original state. “I understand that but this work can be dealt with later.”

“So can whatever you need me for.” He turned his back to his leader once again and resumed his work.

Optimus let out an almost silent sigh before stepping closer to his medic, frames almost touching. His large form cast a shadow over the open weapon his medic had been working on.

Ratchet let out a frustrated growl that would normally cause those bothering him to flee. But Optimus stood his ground, unfazed by his teammate’s attempt to chase him away.

When Ratchet realized that Optimus hadn’t budged he turned away from his workstation and stared up at Optimus. Servos on his hips and tapping his pede impatiently against the ground.

Ratchet widened his optics and nodded his helm in a way that said “hurry up and tell me already.”

“Follow me into the storage unit. There are matters we must attend to.”

“What ‘matters’?”

“That, I cannot answer at the moment. You shall see once we arrive there.”

The medic rolled his optics and followed his leader’s instructions, letting him lead him down the hall.

The walk was silent and awkward for Ratchet. He walked at a faster-pace to keep up with the large prime who remained calm as ever.

His arms were folded behind his back and his helm was held-high. He walked like he always knew what he was doing which was probably the case.

Ratchet on the other hand grumbled to himself angrily and walked with his servos balled into fists. He tried to make it clear that he was unhappy, maybe then Optimus would let him get back to work.

Finally, they reached a large door at the end of the storage hall. It was an extra room used to store energon and other materials.

Optimus entered a code and the massive door slid open revealing the inside.

Ratchet looked around the large room, noticing that it was nearly empty save for a few crates and benches. He shook his helm and let out an annoyed sigh.

“Is it really necessary to take me so far from my work just so we can ‘discuss matters’?” The last two words were spoken with sarcastic air-quotations.

“Privacy will be essential in a few moments, old friend.” Optimus assured as he sat on one of the benches.

Ratchet stood in front of him angrily with his servos on his hips before turning around only to see the door sliding shut.

“Privacy for what!? What are we doing here-!?”

Ratchet could suddenly feel his pedes leave the ground as he was lifted into his leader’s lap back-to-chassis.

A heavy-servo made its way under his left-thigh and lightly lifted before tilting him ever-so-slightly. One leg fell between his leaders while the other was now draped over a thigh.

Ratchet felt wobbly at the sudden position he was in; not used to such treatment. 

He was close to calming down before suddenly noticing two-digits ghosting over his modesty-panel.

“What are you-?!”

He froze in place as he suddenly felt scarred-dermas against his audials,

“I know my friend well enough to sense when he is not feeling his best. I’ve dealt with every mood or unfortunate state you have been in….however, I couldn’t seem to recognize this behaviour of yours...until I ran a quick scan over you.”

Ratchet’s optics widened.

“Ratchet, you are in heat and you are ignoring your needs as per usual. For the sake of the team’s efficiency and even more importantly the sake of my friend’s health, you must be given assistance. Now answer me:”

He squeezed one of the large thighs he held,

“Do you want this?”

And...the “tough” medic went straight back to shaking like a leaf.

He glanced at Optimus with an open intake before slowly closing it and nodding. He then allowed his thighs to fall apart more.

Optimus let out a small hum in acknowledgement before placing his servo underneath Ratchet’s left-thigh once again and slightly lifting it.

His other arm looped beneath Ratchet’s right-leg. The inner-side of his arm-joint hooking under Ratchet’s leg-joint. 

In this position he was able to get a good look at his medic’s body.

His digits slowly met Ratchet’s modesty-panel and began to stroke causing Ratchet to breath-in quickly.

“Calm down, old friend. You’re alright.”

Optimus reassured with a raspy whisper into his friend’s audial.

Ratchet breathed in as he tried to relax himself. He’s never been touched with so much...care.

He leaned his head on Optimus’ chassis and watched as he was stroked, letting out soft hums of pleasure.

He refrained himself from grinding into the touch as he didn’t want to come off as rude or…desperate.

“Old friend, I can feel you straining yourself. If you wish to move then please do. I assure you that it would not bother me. Do what you must to release tension.”

Had he not been in such a state he would’ve found that humorous. Optimus always spoke as if he was having a professional discussion...not even the berthroom was an exception apparently... 

Ratchet began to grind into his leader’s touches and could now feel fresh lubricant drip from his seams, leaking down his leader’s thigh and onto the bench.

Optimus removed his digits from Ratchet’s panel and used them to swipe up some of the lubricant before bringing them to his intake and lightly licking.

“Oh Primus…”

Ratchet thought aloud unknowingly and was suddenly snapped into reality as his panel slid aside and revealed his plush, leaking valve.

It was the same colour as his face plates with a small amount of red bio-lights surrounding it. His outer-nobe was glowing red and swollen with need.

Ratchet’s face plates had become bluer-than before as he avoided his leader’s gaze.

“So beautiful…”

He felt a large servo run up his abdomen, soothingly.

“Did you really just call a valve beautiful?”

Optimus paused; “No.”

He finished running his servo up his medic’s body before cupping his cheek gently,

“I’m calling everything beautiful.”

Ratchet buried his face into his leader’s chassis as he released a string of grumpy but clearly-embarrassed grumbles.

Optimus smiled as he watched his cute medic mumble-away, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his helm.

“I take it this is satisfactory? Or do you desire even more?” His voice dove into a deep, rumbling, purr as his digits began to caress the ever-so-soft folds of the pretty valve at his mercy.

Ratchet nearly overloaded on the spot just by listening to Optimus speak to him in such a manner. He began rolling his hips even faster before letting out a shaky breath followed by even shakier words:

“N-No, mmm-Optimus please! I-I want more…I…..I need more.”

Optimus revved his engine, causing his form to vibrate against Ratchet, momentarily distracting him as he slid a digit in.

Ratchet’s intake practically dropped and he failed to hold back a soft, shaky moan. He swore he could feel that Optimus was smirking at his vulnerability but he honestly didn’t care.

He knew Optimus would keep this between them, and he knew that any smirk the prime made towards him was well intentioned. 

He wasn’t smirking to belittle Ratchet. He was smirking at his own abilities, he was proud that he could get the normally hard-shelled medic into such a soft, open state, both metaphorically and literally.

Ratchet bit his lower-derma and watched the digit at work. It slid in dry, and slid out soaked.

The once dull, charcoal-coloured digit was now shiny and black with lubricant, the scent was strong and the texture was thick.

Optimus rubbed his index-digit against his thumb and smeared the lubricant around. He then slowly pulled the two apart and watched as a thin string of lubricant was formed between them.

He smirked at the little “reward” he received and decided he wanted more of them. He then slid his middle and ring digits into the valve and played with the outer-nobe using his thumb.

Ratchet gasped and placed a servo against Optimus’ chassis, his other servo slapped against his intake to prevent any other noises.

His optics rolled back and he let out another muffled-cry as the digits began to speed up.

Drops of lubricant squirted out of his valve as the penetrations sped up, making obscene wet sounds emit from his entrance.

Optimus watched as a puddle was formed beneath Ratchet’s aft and between his own thighs. Once Ratchet began to twitch in his arms he decided to stop torturing his teammate.

His digits slipped out with an embarrassingly loud pop! And he untangled his arms from Ratchet’s form, servos leaving his thighs and moving to his hips. Turning Ratchet so that his back leaned against him once again.

Ratchet looked down between his legs panting heavily. He shivered as he watched a dark servo trail down his form, index-digit tracing his seams and now approaching his valve once again.

However, instead of touching the medic’s valve Optimus skipped past the fluttering-lips and dug underneath to reach for his own tightening-panel.

He lightly rubbed at the pressured-metal and allowed his spike to spring free.

The shaft was sandwiched between the soft-lips of Ratchet’s valve while the head poked-out the other side.

Ratchet gasped as he noticed the dark-head. A small bead of transmission-fluid could be seen welling at the tip.

Optimus slid his servo into the generous puddle Ratchet had made earlier and used that servo to coat his aching-spike in a thick sheet of transmission-fluid. 

He looped one arm under both of Ratchet’s knee-joints and lifted, practically folding the medic in-half as he gave himself room to enter.

He guided his spike to Ratchet’s entrance and then released his hold on the medic, letting him drop down onto the spike and engulf it’s length completely.

Optimus quickly returned his grasp to the underside of Ratchet’s thighs and held him there, giving him time to adjust.

Ratchet sat completely-still, optics blown-wide, and intake completely dropped open in shock. He shivered, once…twice, then let out a loud shaky-moan that was nearly a scream.

He was in pain in the most delicious way possible, stuffed completely to the hilt and shaking against the large form behind him. 

He looked down at himself and noticed that the lower-part of his torso had been slightly dented-outwards. The spike had pushed against his armour and made it slightly-bulge.

“O-Oh scrap...I…mmh...th-that’s...that’s so much...it’s so….ah...so big.”

He knew if he moved he would overload so he tried to keep himself still and get used to the massive-shaft impaling him.

He leaned his helm back against Optimus’ chassis and clenched his dentae then tightly shut his optics and hissed. 

Optimus nuzzled the top of Ratchet’s helm in an attempt to soothe him then began planting soft-kisses to it as well. He wasn’t going to move unless Ratchet told him to so he waited…

“Please…” Ratchet rolled his hips,

“Please move.” He whined out.

Optimus slowly closed his optics and began to slowly thrust earning a soft-whimper from Ratchet.

The two of them spent nearly two-minutes like that. Softly grinding against each other, Ratchet releasing soft sounds of joy and Optimus remaining silent.

After a while Ratchet could feel his legs twitching and he decided to change the pace.

“Please Optimus...go...faster…”

“As you wish.”

And just like that, soft scraping turned into quick clanging. 

“Nngh...a-ah...y-yES~!”

Ratchet cried out and continued to pant and whimper as he was bounced up and down on his leader’s spike.

“P-Please! I-I’m so close! P-Please Optimus! Frag me! Frag m-OOOH!”

His pleads were cut-off as he was distracted by a few thick-digits rubbing quick circles on his outer-nobe.

His optics began liquidizing and his intake released oral-lubricants as his glossa lulled-out. His optics slowly rolled back and soon enough he began to release a string of pathetic pleads that made going-offline seem more powerful.

“YES! P-PRIMUS YES!~”

And just like that his joints locked-in and his valve began to violently twitch and squirt, coating Optimus’ spike in a thin, warm, fluid.

Half-way through Ratchet’s overload Optimus did something unexpected; he rested his helm on Ratchet’s shoulder and released a deep, powerful, groan as he sprayed a thick spurt of transfluid into his friend’s valve.

_______________________________________

The two of them rested there for a moment, basking in one-another’s afterglow. Soft panting filled the large, storage-room and the two of them slowly looked to each other.

Ratchet put a small strain on his neck-cables as he turned his helm to look at Optimus who responded to the gesture by placing a servo on the back of his neck and began massaging the knots.

Ratchet’s optics shuddered and he let out a shaky breath, he then rested his helm on Optimus’ chassis.

“I...um...th-thank you for...this. I-I really ne-”

“Needed that?”

Ratchet chuckled at how well his friend knew him. Optimus softly smiled at his friend’s joy and pressed their forehelms together.

After a few minutes of nuzzling Optimus slowly pulled out and the two of them decided to ignore the massive flow of transfluid that leaked out of Ratchet’s valve. He then laid back on the bench and brought Ratchet over himself to lay on top.

Optimus could feel his chassis begin to vibrate as Ratchet slipped-off into recharge and hummed against his body.

Optimus simply smiled and ran a caring-servo over his friend’s back.

“Good idea old friend…” Optimus then joined him and drifted off as well.


End file.
